They will not get to us
by ReclaimMyPlace
Summary: Blaine and Kurt were both victims of human trafficking. After two years of captivity they are finally saved, both going seperate ways, dealing with the memories and pain in different ways. Will they remember eachother after three years? Or are they left searching for their missing piece of hope for the rest of their lifes?
1. Chapter 1

**A little something I came up with in the late night hours. I´m a little skeptical about it, seeing as I can hardly see straight because of sleepiness, but I hope my english is understandible. :P**

_**Warnings – sexual content and strong language. Go forth on your own risk. ~**_

* * *

_Coarse hands with thick, short fingers were stroking manically through his dark curls, tugging at them slightly as the man muttered needily under his __breath.  
_"_**Ohh, such a good boy , so beautiful, so soft, hmm, so pretty legs.**"  
__Honestly he didn´t understand why some of them kept up this act, it wasn´t like he needed flattery to give these fat pieces of shit what they wanted. Or __more likely – it wasn´t like he could deny them. _

_He snorted inwardly as the man above him now started to woo his dick like it was a maiden in distress and bit his tongue to prevent a snide comment.  
__Though he was only listening with one ear, the bigger part of his attention were directed to the opposite side of the room. Where _he_ was. The beautiful, __blue eyed boy.  
__There was two men hovering above him, it usually was. The boy was quite popular, and quite the money attractor. He fishes all the loaded guys without __having to do a thing. Well, except throwing his body to the wolfs of course. _

_The man above himself went at his hair again, petting it, combing it back over and over while placing sloppy, wet kisses along his neck and thereby blocking __his view. He moaned in irritation making the man above him perk in delight.  
_"_**That´s it my boy, would you tell me your name?**" __He fought the urge to roll his eyes as the man placed a particularity fat finger in his disgustingly wet mouth and sucked it in a attempt to look appealing, __then when he didn´t answer his question he withdrew his finger from his mouth and moved it to his instead, slowly stroking his lips with the damp, fat, __finger._

_He felt slightly disgusted, but decided to play along, seeing as that would be the fastest way to get rid of him. So he opened his mouth slightly and gently __sucked the man´s fingertip, then he bit down a little harder while flashing the man his best "come-hither" expression. The man let out a comical sound, __much in the resemblance of an moose then withdrew his finger again with an expectant look on his face. _

"_**Blaine.**" He finally declared and thereby inducing an abrasion of his name. That´ll keep him busy for awhile, Blaine thought and smirked as he resumed his __observation on the other side of the room again. The boy, now significantly less clothed (even though the boys here didn´t wear much clothes to begin __with) , looked at the two men with big eyes that looked questioning and wary, one hands was outstretched, reaching for one of the men´s hips, and when __he reached it the man spoke._

* * *

"_**He´s dead sweetcheeks**" Eyes cruel and lips crawled up in a mocking smirk. _Dead_.  
__Everything froze as the boy, currently clutching desperately at the hem of the man´s shirt tried to wrap his head around the words. But all they did was __pound painfully in the back of his head. It felt like the world had stopped spinning and the heartbeats stopped their eternal rhythm. His father was dead._

* * *

_The beautiful boy was staring forward with a blank expression, not focusing on anything while his hand unconsciously clasped and unclasped the man´s __shirt. His lips parted and shivered slightly as he let out a shaky breath, seemingly trying to collecting himself, because there were no grieving breaks at this __place, no place to hide, nowhere to flee to cry. Tears had no effect on these men except for when they used it to their advantage in some twisted fetish __fantasy. Blaine thought bitterly as the break that had only lasted for a few seconds, was disturbed. Because a few seconds are all you are worth before __you are snapped back to reality. _

_One of the men jerked the boy by the chain of his necklace, then two rough hand slammed his slender body down on his back on the worn down mattress __on the far end corner of the obscure room. The blue eyes lowered their flat stare from the roof and like so many times before, found the intense hazel __ones across the room. __Blaine held their gaze, trying to mentally reassure him that it´ll be okay. To stay strong, and to just keep looking him in the eyes __until it was all over, and to block out all the sounds but no matter how intense and strong his gaze where, Blaine knew there was no way to escape. _

_You could still hear the muffled grunts, pained cries and broken whimpers coming from various directions. You could hear the repetitive pounding of a __headboard somewhere on the upper floor and the sound of __flesh being slammed together in a furious pace. _

"_**Listen to the symphonies boys**" Blaine remembered a man had said to the pack of boys, including himself, when they had first stepped through the __doors of the house they have come to call hell. _"_**Isn´t it beautiful?**" The man had paced back and forth in front of them, smiling appreciative as he examined them with those dark eyes. __Then he stopped in front of a tall, skinny boy with bright blue eyes, and leaned in close to the boy´s face. "**Isn´t it..**." he tugged at the boy´s __shirt around the neck, reveling a necklace. "**Kurt?**"  
__The boy, Kurt, had whimpered then, trying to lean away from the man, making him sneer. _"_**Oh don´t worry, you´ll be a part of the symphony soon enough sweetheart**." Then he had stalked off, ordering the men waiting in the corners to do __their business. _

_He had been so scared then, as had Blaine. But so much has changed since then. A whole year has past and the only thing he´s fearing now is the loss of __the gaze that he was currently captive in. He is the only thing that matters. Kurt is the only thing that make him feel something, Blaine realized as the __fatty above him grabbed hold of his legs and pulled them up. _

_Without breaking his eye contact with Kurt he understood the man´s silent request and lifted his legs and placed them on the man´s broad shoulders. He __was rewarded with a urgent, five-second fingering session before he was given the real deal. He should consider himself lucky, usually the stretching isn´t __an option at all, seeing as Blaine, and all the other boy´s are _the product_, and the customers isn´t obliged to make it pleasant for the product. There is no __strings and no catch with these products and it isn´t unheard of that someone is killed during a session. Some people like it rough._

_Blaine grunted slightly as the man pounded deeper and harder inside him, sweating like a pig in the process. He felt himself moving up a couple inches for __every thrust and soon the man had to hold him still by pressing the fat and sweaty hands on his shoulders, sobbing out desperate but increasingly rougher __sentences.  
_"_**Oh, Blaine, let me take care of you, make some noises for me Blaine. There you go. You like me don´t you, like my cock. Urgh, yeah you do, **__**beautiful Blaine, I´m gonna fuck your sweet, tight ass so **_**hard**_" _

_Blaine watched Kurt as the man continued his rant and smirked knowingly when the usual request of making some noises came. A mischievous glint __sparkled in his hazel eyes as he played along with the act. He moaned in a overly obvious way while still keeping the blue eyes glued to his. _

"_**Yeah, I **_**really**_** like that. Hmm Yeah your cock feels so awesome pounding inside me. Hmm. Yeah fuck me you sexy, sexy man." **He wriggled his __eyebrows at Kurt as he continued his obvious fake moaning, and was delighted that, even though it didn´t reach his eyes, a smile was still playing on the __pink lips.__But Blaine was determined to make him forget for a while and make him laugh, so he increased his efforts by doing breathing exercises for child birth. Two __fast inhales one deep exhale. Two fast inhales one deep exhale. "**HiHi Hoo"**_ _Blaine pouted his lips excessively at every exhale making sure to look as __ridiculous as possible, and just as he was about to start moaning "Puuush" the melodic laugh rang harmoniously trough the room. __Blaine immediately __stopped his moaning and relished in the sound as he smiled as warmly as humanly possible when a fat walrus is thrusting repetitively __against you while spraying your inside with it´s seed._

_Blaine barley noticed the man slipping out of him and then collapsing beside him, roughly placing an arm around his waist and spooning him, not even when __the man started snoring against his neck did he budge his gaze, that was how they both fell asleep, watching each other, a silent promise lingering in their __eyes. "**We´ll never let them get to us**."_

* * *

_**Four years later**_

"**Kurt, Sweet cheeks, you gotta get out of that apartment! Get some air, see some people, meet some pretty guys**."  
Kurt could practically hear the wriggle of eyebrows through the phone but he wasn´t up for jokes today, not any day actually.  
"**Don´t call me that.**" He snapped at her, knowingly avoiding Mercedes advise. It had been three years since he was saved from _that place, _but he still didn´t like it when people, not even his friends, gave him pet-names.

"**Sorry, Kurt. But really, you can´t expect us to just sit by and allow you to celebrate you birthday alone in your apartment?**"  
Kurt sighed, making it very clear that was just what he had planned on. Though, by the tone of Mercedes voice he could tell he wouldn´t slip by easily.  
"**Boy , you´re turnin´20 years old! That calls for some major drinking-till-you-pass-out celebration!**" Kurt stayed silent, pondering his options. The best alternative would probably be to do as she says, seeing as she, and all the others would most likely barge into his apartment if he didn´t go out with them. And he really didn´t want them to see how messed up he was living.

He let his gaze wander across the room. He had covered the window with an old bed sheet, blocking out the sun, still not having adjusted to the brightness of daylight. His bed was missing one leg, so Kurt had balanced it with one of his drawers, leaving a provoking gap in his dresser, that was filled with a messy bundle of the few clothes he had left. His floor was stained with three years worth of cleaning, even though you could barely see the floor to begin with, given the fact that it was covered in dirty laundry and old newspapers. On the end of the room was the kitchenette. Though the fridge barely worked and the stove was black with grease and grime. And the bathroom wasn´t even worth mentioning. Yeah, it would probably be best to do as she says, that is what he do best after all. Please others.

"**Okay.**" He finally exclaimed with a weary sigh, interrupting the never- ending attempts of prompting.  
"**What?**" She said, sounding baffled. Kurt almost smiled. Almost.  
"**Okay, I´ll go with you guys, to whatever... You´ve got planned.**" He sighed again, taking a deep breath and did his best to sound cheerful. "**You´re ****right, I need to get out. It´ll be...Fun.**"

He frowned at how strained it sounded but Mercedes was gabbling excitedly in the other end, blissfully unaware of Kurt´s dissatisfaction. Suddenly she was silent, and Kurt could hear her hesitation in the way she was sucking in a breath, then releasing it as if she was going to say something, but ended up taking another deep breath. Kurt waited, but when she finally spoke, he wished he hadn´t.

"**Kurt... I know it´s been hard... With everything, and I just want you to know that you can talk ****to me, you can tell me anything you want, I´ll ****understand, okay?**." The silence that emerged was suffocating, but Kurt couldn´t get himself to answer her. He knew she just wanted to be a good friend, but she´d never understand. No one does. Through the three years he had been free there had been several counselors and psychiatrists and shrinks nodding sympatheticly at him, as if they understood what he´d been through, but Kurt could see the skepticism and judgment playing in their eyes. Sometimes they would even question him, as if they _blamed_ him. People didn´t believe boy toy faggots like him, just like they wouldn´t believe a hooker saying she got raped.

He clenched his teeth and steeled himself not to go down that line of thoughts and quickly changed the subject.  
"**So when are we meeting up? I think I need some time to tame this hair of mine.**" He said in a poor attempt of a joke.  
Mercedes let out another deep sigh but seemed to order herself to let it be seeing as it should be a carefree day for him.  
"**I was thinking 7 pm at my place for a little pre-party before we head out.**"  
Great, then he had... 5 hours to get ready. Mentally more then physically.  
"**Sounds good, see you later then.**"

They said their goodbyes and Kurt hung up gratefully as he collapsed on the unmade bed, making it wobble ominously for a few seconds.  
Kurt rose his hand to his hair, combing it back through his fingers and decided he needed a shower. He sat up again, leaving the phone on the bed, while picking up a pair of jeans on the floor on his way to the bathroom. His old skin-tight jeans to be precise. Though they wearn´t tight anymore, which was saying something seeing as he bought them when he was 15. Only a couple of month before he was captured. Though he had been pretty chubby back then.

He waddled towards the tiny bathroom, taking the shirt that had been hanging there since Wednesday then he closed the door behind him, locking it,even though he was living alone and his front door was locked. He was just happy that he had the opportunity to actually have some privacy. That was something he didn´t have for those two years of captivity.

He jiggled out of his pajama-pants once again trying to avoid looking himself in the full-body mirror that would only reveal the several scars and marks all over his body as he stepped inside the shower. He turned the handle and waited for the water to turn clear then letting the flow wash over him and even though he had ordered himself not to think about it, his mind disobeyed him as it wandered back to all the psychiatrist and shrinks and doubtful looks.

They had said that: "**He is not willing to cooperate**." Kurt snorted at the line. Such fancy words. It was easy throwing that line making it seem like he was the bad guy. But they didn´t understand that he _couldn´t _tell them. He could only give them vague answers because _they_ still had him on a leash. They still owned him, even though he was physically free from their imprisonment. But one slip, one name or location and he, and everyone he cared about would be dead. Of course he couldn´t tell the shrinks that. So they simply put him in a mental health facility for a year, stuffing him with all sorts of medication in lack of better things to do.

He still took some of the medications. Some for depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He glanced at the little mountain of white pill containers on the sink. Those together with the multiply treatments he got at the mental health facility that first year had made some things blurry in his memory. Granted, that was probably the point – to make him forget about the traumatic experiences, but they still haunted him. It was only the details that had been eradicated, like the names and faces. They where all mixed together in his head, leaving him with the raw knowledge instead.

He remembered

Not the voices but the words. "_**You´re worthless, nothing but a fucktoy , you´re alone, He´s dead**__"  
_Not the bodies but the pain. Memories of how he was fucked and beaten to the brick of death, humiliated, videotaped , spat on, forced, used and taken over  
and over, and worst was when he had to act like he wanted it. When he acted seductive and willing, being the pretty boy that attracted in all the big money.

It was all etched in his skin. The fear and pain was planted in his very core. The _distrust_. The way he would be paralyzed with fear when someone touched him, even when someone _looked_ at him in _that_ way. That was one of the main reasons he wasn´t going outside more then to buy supplies. He didn´t even trust his friends anymore.

Kurt remembered when his friends had first came to visit him in the mental facility. He had been on his medication for a week and the memories had already began to blur together. He had lied in his bed, with his back turned to the door, listening to music for the first times in several months. Therefore he hadn´t heard or seen when his group of friends had entered the room. So when Finn had bolted towards him, and flung his arms around Kurt´s waist he had yanked away, screaming and pleading while he had struggled to get free from the sheets and fallen out of the bed, crawling to the corner of the room, facing the wall, crunched up in fetal position, with his face hidden in his arms while he was screaming and sobbing his lungs out. It wasn´t until the nurse had barged in and given him sedative that he had turned around, and seen the terrified look on Finn´s face. They all stayed on a fair distance after that.

Kurt laughed bitterly as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a hopefully clean pair of boxers hanging over the dysfunctional radiator. He wiped himself of quickly with his only towel then quickly slipped into his clothes. Then reluctantly turning to the mirror, beginning to work some sense into the birds nest he called hair. He ruffled it with the towel to get it dry and cursed himself for not taking better care of his hair. It had resulted a lot of split ends and together with months of not having combed it properly, and years of limited showers had led to it being all frazzled and... _Curly. _

A familiar jolt sparkled in his chest as he pushed his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at one particularly curly lock before releasing it and reaching for his straightener. It was way out of age, but magically still functioning. But as he straightened his unruly hair he couldn´t help but feel like there was something he had forgotten. He felt something intense deep inside him. Like some kind of sparkling hope, and his chest jolted every time he was close to clutching the memory but it always slipped out of his grasp before he could even give it a tiny peek.

He grunted in frustration. What was the memory he had suppressed about. Or..._ Who?_

* * *

**Yeah, there we go. Did you like it? I don´t know if I should continue it. I usually get these random plot ideas and they turn out to be rubish when I write them down. But please tell me if I should continue it. And if you do, what do you expect to happen? :3 Tell me what you think of it, and what I could improve. I know I need a Beta, but I can´t get hold of one.  
**

**Well, nighty nighty sweet cheeks, Imma sleep now. **


	2. Party til you drop

Blaine thumped down unto his back on the bed, untangling his legs from the waist hovering above him.

The waist was thin, and muscular, which was quite an improvement seeing what kind of men usually was panting above him. Not that it mattered, Blaine wasn´t one to dwell over looks. He wasn´t very picky.

Then man, now tiredly resting his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of the bed, rose up lazily while putting on the boxers that had crash landed on the chair on the other side of the room about half an hour ago.

Blaine placed his hands behind his head, quietly watching him as he dressed while bobbing his foot to a nonexistent beat.

The man... What ever his name was, turned to him as he zipped up his jeans and started walking towards him.

"That was great, I´d love doing it again sometime." He said with a smug smirk on his lips. Blaine gave him a indifferent shrug and a crooked smile.

"Yeah, sure." He yawned and then pointed towards the door.

"Don´t let the door hit you on the way out."

The man stopped dead in his advancing and rose his eyebrows slightly, but turned and walked out, carefully closing the door behind him.

Blaine perked his ears, listening for the sound of the front door and relaxed back into the pillows as he heard it shut.

He closed his eyes and relished in the silence for a second but soon got bored and snapped up, clapping his hands on his legs. He restlessly started drumming his fingers against his thighs, the silence suddenly feeling oppressive.

He couldn´t stand silence anymore. Not since he got free from those bastards. One would think he would want peace and quite with what he had been through, but it was the complete opposite. He couldn´t be still for more than 5 minutes, unless he was sleeping of course. Which, if he was going to be honest, didn´t do much anyway.

He wouldn´t say he _missed_ the sound of moans and screaming but somehow, he felt uneasy without it. Whenever it got to quite, or to calm, he would feel this growing bubble of angst flaring up in his chest, making him jumpy and restless.

So that´s why he brought home countless men to his apartment, fucking like rabbits until they where too tired move, then he kicked them out. He wasn´t much of a cuddler. He actually found it rather unnecessary and unnerving.

The first year after he got out was the worse. He had even started working at a strip club/ brothel since he couldn´t stand the tranquility of his parents house. But he ended up getting kicked out. Both from the club and his home.

He got fired from the club because he started doing things free of charge, apparently that wasn´t a hit. But Blaine didn´t exactly need the money, his parents, even though they kicked him out, was giving him a fair amount of money every month on the request that he got his fagot ass as far away from them as possible.

Sure, he hadn´t been the most loving son when he had gotten home, sneaking out on nightly fuck-adventures , bringing home strange guys, letting his parents listen to his slamming headboard and being generally rude.

But they had blamed him. Mostly his father, saying he had _liked_ getting raped and fucked on daily basis while captivated. He even claimed that Blaine had run away to that place on own free will, since he was nothing but a fag. And stated that Blaine was only proving his accusations to be right, seeing as he still was getting ass fucked like the sick fag he was.

So when he turned 18, he was kicked out, and now lived in the fancy part of Westernwill, in one of the big, stylish apartments with high ceilings and ebony floor tiles.

He sighed contentedly as he searched his drawer for something to wear. He was going out tonight. As every other night. Clubs were the best hook up places, especially in this small area. The gay guys are all pretty much desperate seeing as there only are a limited amount of outed gays here and therefore they are very easily picked up. Even though he always let them think it was they who was picking him up. Unless of course he felt like getting some lamb chop action. He enjoyed topping just as much as bottoming.

He found a pair of tight black jeans and a grey, fitting t-shirt that showed his arms in just the right way.

He did a quick nod of approval in the mirror before moving on to his hair. He reached for the gel, but changed his mind just as he was about to put a handful into his hair. He wanted it loose tonight. So instead of gelling it down, he ruffled it with his hands, making it look like he had just gotten out of bed.

Which was true.

_Time to party._

* * *

"PARTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

"_WHOOP WHOOP! _BIRTHAY BOY COMING FORTH"

"Please Santana, could you _not_ do that?"

Kurt gave the latina a lame attempt at a stern look then moved on to Mercedes that also was rather loud.

"Come ooooon, Kurtsie! Loosen up! Have you even had _anything_ to drink?" Mercedes wailed as she staggered forward on the street, arm in arm with Rachel that was giggling and half running to keep up with Mercedes fast pace.

Kurt shot her another look, this time it was a bit more defeated. He actually hadn´t drunk anything. Whenever they would shove a glass or bottle into his hands he would pretend to drink, but really just spit it out in the bottle again. He didn´t drink. He hated the taste of alcohol since he so many times had been forced to drink while others watched and urged him on with just those words that Mercedes was so loudly exclaiming right now: "_You gotta loosen up, sweetcheeks."_

Kurt shivered as he remembered. The coarse hands that would tilt the bottle even further so that that Kurt almost choked. How the same hands would travel down, feeling him up as Kurt continued drinking compulsively. The liquid burning his throat but all the while making him _feel_ less, later when the very same bottle would end up somewhere else entirely. Someplace much more painful than his mouth. Hopefully Mercedes was a bit more merciful than that.

"I don´t really like alcohol." He mumbled, but Mercedes didn´t hear him, she was busy trying to walk straight enough to fool the guard she was sober enough to get into the club.

They all stood in front of the guard, waiting to get passed the rope, all waiting for Rachel to show her ID. She was a rather famous Broadway singer in New York, and therefore easily slipped pass the queues along with any of her accompaniment. The guard however didn´t seem to recognize her, and was awfully stubborn. Kurt sighed as he backed to the edge of the group, as far away from Rachel´s loud, drunken complaints as possible.

He leaned against the wall next to the entrance of the club, hearing and feeling the thudding of the music though the walls. He closed his eyes and tried to block his thoughts away wishing desperately that he was home in his bed, sleeping under the covers where it was quite and peaceful.

Just as the thought crossed through his mind, a loud honk was heard as a car slowed in and stopped in front of him, the window opening and a man around his thirties leaning his head out and started catcalling and whistling at Kurt with his friends in the backseat as chorus.

"Oy! Pretty boy, aren´t you looking fine tonight? You for sale or what? You wanna come with us? We could show you a _real_ good time." The man went on and on, his voice boring itself inside Kurt´s head and leaving him paralyzed with fear.

His entire body stiffened and he found that he was unable to move, unable to flee. He let out a soft whimper and closed his eyes again, harder this time, as if trying to _will_ the men away with his mind.

Then he heard another voice. It was far more pleasant and seemingly not directed towards him, but to the men in the car. Kurt opened his eyes.

"Hi gentlemen, looking for some fun?"

The men in the car directed their attention to the new-commer than was currently leaning against their car, with his hand placed above the window of it, leaning down to them, so that all Kurt could see was the back of a dark, curly-haired head. And a leather jacket covered back.

"Yeah that´s what we asked doll-face over there, He seems like a real treat don´t you think?." The man in the front seat jeered, turning his attention to Kurt, winking suggestively at him.

The leather jacket turned his head slightly to the side, but didn´t fully turn around then turned back to the man.

"Oh yeah, defiantly, but he´s stiff like a board and not in a good way, so unless you wanna fuck a dead fish I suggest you go with someone a bit more... _Willing."_

The new-commer´s voice dropped to a low, seductive one and he leaned closer to the man, making his jeans go down and his jacket go up, revealing a lot of bare skin, which the men in the back seat now payed close attention to.

"Ey, Peter, let´s bring this one home, shall we?" They called to the man in the front seat and then made room for the leather jacket – guy that made quite a show at climbing into the car then sat down, and gave one look out the window before it went up and the last thing Kurt saw was a pair of glowing, hazel colored eyes giving him a knowing look.

The car finally drove of.

"Kurt? Kurt! What are you doing, hun? Get over here, we´re going in!"

Kurt snapped out of his trance and turned his head to Mercedes and the others, that was on their way inside the club, the guard most have finally let them in.

He shook his head, baffled of what had just happened, but managed to follow the other inside on shaky legs. It felt like they would give in any second, but he had to do this for his friends. Or else they would never leave him alone. He had to make them happy.

The club was noisy and crowded and it smelt like sweat and alcohol. People was practically standing on top of each other, rubbing themselves on the person closest to them, or just jumping up and down, which practically was the same thing. The music was thumping loudly, making everything from the floor to the beer bottles on the counter vibrate dully. His head was also a victim of the thumping, but he could endure it. He had been through worse, after all.

Finn and Puck had arrived some time after they all had gotten inside, and was currently dry humping each other on the dance floor, laughing hysterically while doing it. Santana was doing the same thing, but to a significantly less willing Rachel, that looked like she was gravely uncomfortable. Kurt almost laughed. She never have had much sex appeal, that woman. Five years ago, Kurt could have said the same thing about himself. He used to have as much sex appeal as a baby penguin, and was always incredibly naive when it came to sex. People would laugh and think it was adorable back then. Now they just looked at him sadly. _Pitying him_.

He watched as Mercedes made her way towards him, blissfully unaware of all the people she accidentally bumped into while doing so. She wore a mischievous grin on her face that Kurt knew would come with something bad. And he was right. When she finally made it pass the heavy mass of jumping people Kurt saw she had someone with her. Someone she was currently dragging along with her at the persons wrist. Kurt turned around in his seat, facing the bar again, wishing she wouldn´t find him. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Of course she would see him. He was practically the only one sitting down and with that sitting rather stiffly.

"Kurtsie! Look what I found!" She screamed as she turned Kurt chair around again, so he was facing her and the guy next to her. Kurt eyed him warily, careful not to meet his eyes. He didn´t like eye contact. The guy looked about 25 and was dressed in a pair of tight, low cut jeans with a tight white T-shirt that glowed in the club lights. His hair was carefully styled without it looking overdone, and he was smiling gleefully at Kurt.

"He´s gay like you Kurt!" Mercedes screamed a bit to loudly as she pushed the man forward.

"You must have looooads in common!" She added with a slur, then she turned around skipping towards Puck and Finn who was still dancing like maniacs.

Kurt sighed and forced himself to look up.

"Hello." He forced stiffly. He tried to smile, but it made his face hurt so he stopped.

"Hi there." The man said, a bit more confidently after he sat down next to Kurt. He must have taken the greeting as a invitation. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while, the guy clearing his throat several times. Kurt was probably supposed to say something, he guessed that is how it works but he didn´t know what to say. He never talked to strangers and he didn´t want to start. But he didn´t have to. "I´m Matt." The man said, reaching a hand out for Kurt to shake. He didn´t. "Kurt." He said instead with a forced smile. The man chuckled. "So, you here often?"

Kurt almost laughed. What a cliched question. He shook his head. "I wouldn´t say so, no." He turned to his untouched drink, looking down into the table. The man chuckled again and then Kurt felt a hand on his shoulder. "Loosen up, you´re really stiff." His thumb was rubbing the back of his neck and Kurt shivered in disgust and fear. Matt however seemed to think it was because of something else. "Oh, you like that? Haha, want me to give you a massage? I hear I´m really good." He said into Kurt´s ear, leaning in close and then rose up to stand behind him, pressing his body into Kurt´s back, while rubbing Kurt´s shoulders and stroking his neck.

Kurt immediately went rigid, and it didn´t take more then two seconds before he was on his feet, staring at the man with big eyes."Don´t touch me!" He screamed then turned around and ran. Pass all the dancing people, pass the doors and the guards, away from the thumping music and the heavy scent of alcohol and sweat, away from the suffocating situation he yet again had ended up in. He was so tired. So tired of being so afraid. Tired of the strangling rope around his lungs that never loosened. He was stuck. Bound to fear life forever.


	3. That s what you get

Blaine stumbled out the club, feeling rather exhausted. Being fucked up against a brick-wall in a bathroom usually did that to you. It had been far to easy tonight. It wasn´t even past 11 yet. Well, it might have something to do with the fact that Blaine had quite openly exclaimed that he liked getting fucked raw. That usually made them sharks circle around you, waiting to get a piece of you. And indeed they did. Well, not all of them. Being fucked raw three times in a row is rather tough, even for him.

He pushed passed the eager people in the queue and was rewarded with a couple of angry snarls, but he ignored it. He was tired, sore and irritated. He didn´t know why though. Well, he knew why he was sore, but not why he was in such a bad mood. This wasn´t any different of what he usually did. He signed and lit a cigaret, took a deep drag and felt the calming burn sooth his raging mind. He just wanted to go home and sleep forever. He was so tired. He spun around and considered taking a cab, but changed his mind. Last time he took a cab hadn´t ended well.

"Oy, pretty boy arn´t you looking fine tonight? You for sale or what?" Blaine´s head spun around in the direction of the voice and was about to snarl something angrily at it when he noticed that the question hadn´t been directed towards him.

A thin, tall boy was leaning against the wall besides the entrance of the club, his head was bowed down making him look much like a kicked puppy. His entire body was rigid and Blaine could practically see the fear and discomfort pouring from the boy. But then he shrugged. _Not my problem_. He thought and was just about to walk away when the boy raised his head slightly to the side, as if searching for someone, presumably his friends, and Blaine saw a pair of clear blue eyes. They struck him, deep down in his chest and it actually felt like something had pounded right through his heart. There was something in there, in those eyes, that made Blaine´s conscience stir. He felt the strangest need to protect the boy and that made Blaine scared, because Blaine _never _caredfor _anything_ or_ anyone_.He never help or sympathized. He was a selfless bastard without feelings of remorse or guilt or empathy. He never _felt_ anything but indifference. Except for now.

He threw the cigaret on the ground, quickly stepping on it and then proceeded towards the car in which the shouting men was inhabit in and lowered himself towards the window.

"Hey gentlemen, looking for some fun?" He said with a deep voice, barely containing the anger, but somehow managing to make it sound lust-filled and sexy seeing as the man in the car shifted his eyes at him instead, his pupils dilating. Using that voice just came naturally by now, Blaine guessed.

"Yeah, that´s what we asked doll-face over there. He seems like a real treat, don´t you think?" The man drawled, his eyes shifting to the boy again, licking his lips approvingly.

Blaine turned his head slightly to the side, pretending to look then looked at the man again,

"Oh, yeah, definatly." Blaine said and sneered. "But he stiff like a board, and not in a good way so unless you wanna fuck a dead fish, I suggest you go with someone a bit more... Willing." His voice dropped suggestively and he bit his bottom lip as he leaned in closer, making sure to expose as much skin possible and still make it seem innocent. (_Enough)_

It worked. The man in front of him made a flustered sound, holding his breath and his eyes went dark with lust and Blaine could practically hear the dicks stretching against the trousers of the men in the backseat, begging to be released, and to be taken care off. By Blaine.

"Ey, Peter, let´s take this one home, shall we?" A husky voice from the backseat begged and soon Blaine was pulled inside the car by a rough hand grabbing his arm.

The men immediately started going at him, rubbing his thighs and begging for him to touch them.

Blaine complied ofcourse, but before the car drove off, he managed to get once last glance at the scared boy outside. He recognized that look. He knew that fear that was playing in those eyes and even though Blaine would never admit it even as much as to himself - he was just as afraid as that boy. He always had and always will. But he kept exposing himself to the fear, because that´s what he´d been told. Face your fears. Stop being a fucking fag and stop being afraid. Anderson s are not afraid.

The old family motto. Those words hit his father right in the face when Blaine came back from _that place._ He faced his fears out of pure rebellion and obstinacy. Every time his father would caught him doing his "fagget-thing" he would piss him off by telling him - "I´m just doing as I´m told. I´m just facing my fears."

The face his father got was priceless and Blaine never got tired of it. So he faced his fears everywhere possible. In his room. In his parents room. In the kitchen. In the living-room. In the guestroom. In the nanny´s room. In the bathrooms, in the his father´s car, even in his father´s office had he exchanged seeds with various men.

Blaine laughed bitterly as he straddled the man sitting next to him which eagerly went at his neck and started grounding his hips at Blaine in a desperate pace while panting fiercely. The man in the front seat watched him in the mirror, keeping his gaze locked hungrily at him, probably thinking about all the things he was going to do with him. Blaine could barely see straight out of exhaustion, his body was sore and weak. The sounds and voices around him kind of went right through him and therefore not entirely registrating the way the man looked at him when giving him his beer bottle, offering him a drink. He only complied, dutifully drinking a few gulps before giving it back. He heard the man currently resident under him whispering in his ear.

"Soon there, I live just round the corner."

How conviniet, Blaine wanted to huff, but held his tounge. But it really was. Living this close to the bar and the street known for crawling with willing people. Or people in desperat need of money. Either way – it was a place that was easy to get hooked up on.

And now Blaine was hooked. Captured in the claws of the horny men around him. Trapped in his mind as his body grew wary and slow. He slowly turned his head towards the man in the front seat. Eying the beer bottle he had drunken from minutes ago. Ofcoruse. He should have known. Jumping into a car with some random men looking for a hooker. Ofcourse they would drug him senseless. Maybe he should be grateful. That meant he would feel less but also that the men didn´t intend to make him fight his way out of it in some kind of sick fetish-rape-game. Now he just had to lie there and take it. Granted he would probably be pretty worn out during the whole thing, and afterwards no doubt. But he couldn´t find enough motivation to care. He gave in to the fogginess and let the drug consume his body, trapping himself in his mind. Like he was watching from the inside of his head. Watching his own body moving by itself, but whenever he would think that he needed to get out of there. Thinking – stand up, lift your legs ans stand up, his limps would betray him, they would lie there numbly, jeering at him, mocking him for his ignorance and stupidity.

But then it was over. And he found himself remotely less numb and inhabitant in the same car as before, though driving back where he was picked up. He felt sick. His whole body hurt and his head was about to burst. He snapped his head to the driver, anger flaring up inside him.

"W-w-w-hat the hell!? " He mumbled, his tongue still feeling slightly out of order. And his mind frantically working against him making his words heavy and blurred together.

"Llllet me out! Fucking... fucking..." He stuttered, forcing his lips to form the right words.

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!" He finally screamed.

The man laughed at him in the front seat, jeering at him through the mirror making Blaine snarl agrinly in response.

"You didn´t have to... D-drug me. Fu-fucking... C-c-co... COCKHEAD!" He closed his eyes, trying to get his brain to cooperate. He manage to get his arm to function enough to reach the door handle. With a tug that took his entire body strength he manage to get it open, making the driver hit the brakes rapidly. Blaine loosened his seat belt, and stumbled out the car with the little body strength he had left. He raised his head, noticing he was back at the same street he had left from. At least the fuckers had had decency enough to drop him off too. That was the least they could do after druging him up and fucking him up repeatedly. Fuckers. He signed. How the hell did he end up like this again. Oh right. Now he remembered. He was being noble for once. Playing the good guy always make you end up in some fucked up situation. Well, fuck this. This was the last time he would ever do anything nice ever again. This is was you get for having a conscience.

He laughed bitterly as he remembered the boy he had saved. Blue eyes. He huffed. He had always been a sucker for blue eyes.


	4. returning the favour

**Hi! Sorry for all the short chapters. I fins it difficult to write longer onces at the moment. I don´t know what it is. But I hope it´s good anyways! ^^ Read!**

Kurt ran out the club, forcing himself not to cry. If he broke down now, he would never be able to stop. He snapped his head back and forth, searching for something, anything that could be of help to him. A way out of this never-ending nightmare that evolved itself around him. A way to stop his heart from beating frantically against his ribcage. A way for the rope to loosen just a little bit. He turned around and faltered. Out of a car stumbled a rather ragged looking man. A man, who´s curly hair and leather jacket looked immensely familiar.

The man was staggering towards the streetlamp closest to him, using it as support as he was leaning forward, coughing and laughing in turns.

He looked terrible, his hair was ruffled and damp with sweat and his face looked pale and a bit yellow and was also slick with sweat, his clothes was messy his deep voice was hoarse and broken.

Kurt watched him from afar, hearing once more the piecing laugh as it made it´s way towards Kurt´s ears.

It was a weird laugh. It wasn´t happy , but not sad either. It was kind of... Hysteric but amused in the same time. Like he was laughing at a private joke only he knew about. Kurt was intrigued to say the least, and he found himself wondering what the man was laughing about. It made him sad that such a beautiful voice was used to such a bitter laugh. Before he could think of it any further, the man swung around, facing the car that was currently driving off.

"YEAH, just leave you... HAHA. FUCKERS! YOUR DICKS TASTED LIKE ROTTEN FUCKING EGGS ANYWAY! HAH!" He broke down into coughs, only now it followed up with vomit. Kurt took a step back in disgust but took two forwards as the man fell to the ground, his knees finally giving in.

Kurt stopped, the two steps feeling more then enough now as he was cautiously watching the drunk man. Though by the looks of it, and Kurt was rather experienced in this area, he would say that there was something else then just alcohol involved. Kurt recognized this symptoms. The way you loose control completely, the way you can barely hold yourself upright, all your strengths gone. This makes you a easier target. Less threatening, less resistant. Usually you just lie there, taking whatever the person drugging you is giving you. You can do nothing about it. You just go along with it. It´s miracle the man was still standing and screaming like he was. It takes great will and power to do that. Or just a built up resistance.

Suddenly Kurt´s legs moved. Towards the man. He didn´t know what was happening or why he would get closer to someone that obviously was bad news. But he felt some kind of pull towards him. And gratitude.

"Excuse me... A-are you okay?" Kurt dared quietly. He wasn´t accustomed to use his voice. Especially not to strangers. His entire being was quivering, inside and out. But non the less – he continued.

"D-Do you need h-help?" The man in the leather jacket weakly turn his head at Kurt and made a face at him. Kind of growled... Snarled at him. Like a wounded animal trying to defend itself. Kurt took a step back.

"Urrgh... jus´.. FUCOFF!" The curly man managed when Kurt had ,incredibly enough, reached a hand out to help him up. The man lamely shoved Kurt´s hand away and by doing so, managed to fall forward, having lost his balance. Lying there, growling and snapping at Kurt whenever he tried to get closer and _help him. _

Kurt didn´t really understand the man´s behavior. He didn´t understand. Was this man a … Streetwalker? Was that why he so willingly took Kurt´s place from those guys? But what had that look meant when he was taken away? He shook his head, it didn´t matter at the moment. Kurt thought where he helplessly stood crouching a few feet away from the man, not knowing what to do. He felt the urge to help him. It felt like it was his duty... Like he owed him that. It made no sense.

"Please, y-you can´t just lie h-here, you´ll d-die from the cold. Do live near h-here?"

The man didn´t make any sign that he had heard him but stayed on the ground, closing his eyes with his hands covering his face. Then he started to laugh again, a breathless laugh, hollow, but still managing to be amused in some manner.

Kurt watched helplessly as the man sighed and turned to his side, using his hands as a pillow, like he was going to sleep. His forehead smotthen imidiatly, his face looking instantly more approchable. So calm and carefree. It was mesmerizing. But Kurt didn´t let himself be capture for long, and made his way towards the man, closing the short distance there had been between them. He hesitated for a short second, then laied a hand on the man´s shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Hello? Wake up!" He began but the man stayed blissfully unaware of his voice, making Kurt panic a little for ever second that passed. What should he do? Surly he couldn´t just leave him there? He had saved him after all. And it would be the right thing to do, even if he hadn´t. Kurt looked around, searching for something or someone to help him, but found he was to afraid to ask anyone for help.

However that made sense he didn´t know. He coulnd´t ask a guard for help, but was mr. Hero when it came to a obviously aggressive, defensive, drugged, possibly a whore that he had no Idea who he was. He should be terrified. But somehow he wasn´t. He looked down at the dark curls, and thick eyebrows. Recognition made it´s way through him, leaving a sense of unease in his chest, but in the same time calm. It was a weird feeling.

It felt so unreal. The way he was so afraid, so uncertain and on the brick of anxiety, and still felt so safe, calm and unafraid.

He tried reaching out to the man again, though with a added sense of cautiousness.

"Wake up! You can´t lie here." He urged without success. He looked around again, and when he saw no one was around, he slapped the man in the face as hard as he dared. The man stirred, jerking up with a haunted look on his face, that soon faltered and turned into a tired one.

Kurt sighned in relife that he wasn´t dealing with a corpse, and took the man under his arm, trying to heave him up.

"Stand up, you can´t sit here." He said gently.

The man manage to stand up, seeming oblivious to what was going on, and on his way to falling asleep. Kurt started talking to him, saying random things in order to keep him awake. Because he wouldn´t be able to keep the man upright if he fell asleep. He was heavy enough as it was, and not he was atleast carrying 50% of his own weight. He made it to the end of the street, past the club area, and out in the open street. He dragged the man to the side of the street, and managed to get a hold of a cab. He shoved him inside and then sat down next to him, buckling their seat belts and continued talking to him, desperate to keep him awake.

"Did they drug you?" He dared quietly, though loud enough to make the stranger stop laughing randomly and twitch slightly, giving Kurt a slightly surprised look but it disappeared as soon as it came and he went back to laughing hollowly again. But on the bright side he looked a bit more awake then before.

"I´m surprised such a doll like you would know that." The man slurred slowly between his hollow laughs. "so have you been the drug_ied _or the drug_er._?" He added with a jeer.

Kurt jaw dropped as he was momentarily baffled by the question. But soon got a hold of himself as he saw the man was leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Kurt immediately began talking, fearing the stranger would fall asleep.

"T-that´s hardly any of y-your bu-business." Kurt said, trying to sound confident and sassy like the old days, but failed pretty hard and was glad the man was to out of it to notice. "A-and I doubt you´ll r-remember anything I-I tell you in the morning any- anyway." The stranger gave him a snarky smirk. "So drug_ied _then?" He turn around a threw up harshly in the bag the cab driver had provided him, then started coughing again. Kurt found that he really disliked the stranger, he was rude, mean and obviously in the kind of circles Kurt wanted to stay out of the most. But still, _he couldn´t let go._

"Ehm.. A-are you... A..." Kurt stuttered, but was cut off before he got to say anything else.

"A whore?" The strangers said, his tone slightly sharper. "Why, wanna hire me?" He added with a wink. Kurt kept silent, just watching the stranger until he spoke again. He recognized this manner. Turning to humor and sarcasm was a known and well-used defense-mechanism.

"No. I´m not. I just like to getting fucked." The stranger finally said "Or being the one fucking, if that´s what you prefer." He winked again.

"urgh... I´m... Not even gonna answer that." Kurt said, waving his hand dismissively at the man making the him laugh slightly less hollowly. Kurt looked away, feeling incredibly embarrassed to get humiliated so easily by a drugged stranger. He didn´t have to think much more of it, when the driver suddenly pulled over, saying they were there. Kurt payed, and managed to get the man out the backseat. He seemed to be a bit more awake now, seeing as he was less heavy and carried most of his weight on his own to Kurt´s great pleasure. He was rather built. He stilled seemed out of it though, like he wasn´t really aware of that he this was real. So followed Kurt naively through the up the stairs and then stumbled inside his apartment.

Kurt felt his heart beginning to beat harder at the sight of another person inside his home. And a stranger at that. A moment of fear overtook him as the stranger made it´s way to the couch and in order to push the feeling away he began talking again.

"What´s your name?" He blurted as he began biting on his nails nervously.

"I´ll be whoever you want me to be baby." The man said with another one of his winks and suggestively touched his own lip with his finger, then moved it slowly down his body in a exaggerated way as he made a parody of the "come-hither" face. Kurt watched in incredulity, torn between crying and laughing. The way the man so clearly made fun of the "sexy" gesture rang a bell in Kurt´s mind, made a part of him remember _something, someone._ He stared intensely at the man trying to get his memories in order.

The man leaned back against the pillows resting his arms behind his head, smirking knowingly at Kurt. "Quit your drooling sweetheart, you´re making me all wet." He mumbled, closing his eyes and then opening them lazily again, like he was dozing of for a second.

"I wasn´t drooling." Kurt deadpanned, making the man blink a couple of times and then widening his eyes slightly, as if trying to keep them opened. Kurt continued.

"I was merely watching you. Your crude and indelicate behavior reminds me of someone. " Kurt stopped dead, surprised by the sassy comeback. It had been long since he had the confidence, courage and will to answer back to anyone.

This man made him feel something. Irritated, frustrated and even... Amused at times. And even though the man was constantly flirting with him and saying crude things and was remarkably bigger and stronger then him, he didn´t feel threatened. He felt... Safe. It was unnerving to say the least. Kurt hadn´t felt safe in 5 years.

**Hey! So. What do you think? I know it´s really messy right now, I´ve been a real slob with this chapters and I´m really sorry xD But I hope you like it so far! They´ve finally met! Right? Yaaay! Please review and all, it makes me really happy and keeps me motivated. ^^, **


	5. Now we re even

**Hi guys. I know this has taken a whole lot of freaking time to write. Especially for being such a short chapter too. I have been feeling bad lately, but now when I´m locked up in the mental hospital, I have loads of time to write. If I take my pills, that is :P Well, enjoy!**

* * *

"It´s Blaine by the way." The stranger said, his eyes closed and minutes from falling asleep.

Kurt had taken the liberty to place a blanket over him, and was now seated at the end of the couch, uneasily looking at the man as he was dozing off. He jerked slightly at the stranger's voice. They had been quiet for a while, and the contrast between the man´s deep voice and the pressing silence was intense. Kurt shook his head in confusion.

"W-what?" He asked, stuttering slightly. The man laughed silently, almost like a whisper, before he spoke again.

"My name." He said, then took a deep breath and stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he had fallen asleep. "You asked what my name was. It´s Blaine. But you can call me hot-stuff if you want.

S´cool Y´now." He mumbled, his voice tuning out into deep breathing, silently falling asleep.

Kurt remembered when he had first gotten out from that place. How he had been so afraid. Afraid of going outside, because he knew there would be men lurking in the corners, just waiting for him to come out. Waiting to kill him for having gotten free.

He remembered how he had flinched away from everyone´s touch, as if afraid there were going to hurt him. How he, every time someone gave something to him like food, clothes, a towel to wipe himself off, he would look at them hesitantly, as if asking for permission. How he would slowly and with shaky hands, reach out for it and then when he had it in his hands, he would flinch again, as if awaiting a hit for doing something he wasn´t allowed.

He remembered the sudden silence, and the time he got to himself. He had been so lonely. He had so much more time to actually process what had happened to him. When he was at that place, in the whole thing, he didn´t have time to really stop and process what he was feeling. But suddenly he did, and it came all at once. All the pain, all the fear and all the self-hatred. It came rushing down at once and he would sit days at end, only staring into the wall. He wouldn´t eat, wouldn´t speak and _couldn´t_ cry.

That´s why Kurt felt uneasy when looking at Blaine. There was something about the boy that made him want to tear his heart out and just cry. To just let everything out. It made no sense, because the boy had not been very nice or appropriate. Kurt shook his head to rid his mind of his thoughts, and then he flinched. He looked down at the boy and realized he was petting his hair, stroking it back from his forehead and away from his sleeping eyes. He jerked his hand away and the boy squirmed slightly and turned around in the couch with a silent murmur.

Kurt looked at his hand, perplexed at what he had done. He hadn´t touched anyone in three years. He rose from where he sat in a crouched position and walked towards his bedroom lazily taking his clothes off then stopping midway. _Should he really take them off? There is another man in his apartment, a stranger._ He shook his head. It was too hot to sleep in his pajamas, and he usually only slept in his boxers. He felt a little bit uneasy though. He didn´t want to be half naked when there was a man just a few feet away. Then he sighed. It´s not like a few extra layers would prevent a rapist to do his thing. So it doesn´t really matter how much clothes he was wearing.

He continued taking his clothes off, slipping out of his jeans and then jumping in bed. Feeling very exposed. He shouldn´t give the other man a reason. This was to provoking him. It would be his fault if he was lying here in only boxers. He would be asking for it.

He immediately raised from the bed again, dashing to his cupboard and searching for his pajamas, who really was just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and then went to bed again. He looked up into the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing from the couch and feeling sleep overpower him. Soon he had fallen asleep, dreams haunting his mind.

* * *

_He was captured, stuck and suffocated. He was back in the damp cellar where never ending screams and groans was playing in his ears. He felt so warm; he was sweating and shivering in the same time. He was so afraid. He looked to his right, and saw the siluet of a boy. He sqeeshed his eyes to try and focus his sight, but could only make out the flash of a pair of golden hazel eyes. Then they were gone and Kurt felt a pressure from behind him. It was unfamiliar but still so easily remembered. Then the pictured changed and he was being ripped apart. Cut open and whipped and torn and raped. They were hitting him so hard, graceless thrusts digging into him with no soul. Not hearing his pleas and only laughing, grunting and beating. _

* * *

Kurt woke up with a start, feeling hands curling around him, grabbing him and dragging him closer. His eyes widened with fear and he ripped himself from the arms, falling to the floor and crawling backwards towards the corner of the room, then sat still, curling his arms around his knees, staring terrified at the person who was sitting in his bed, looking at him.

Kurt looked back, still afraid to his very core, his heart beating to the point where it almost was torn from his chest. He felt his head spinning and everything was so intense. So real. He felt so afraid, and panicked. There were here. They had found him. He was terrified. Afraid of making a sound but his very core telling him to run, to scream and to get away.. His breath started to quicken, a panic attack working its way into his chest. The man stood up from the bed, slowly approaching him and Kurt pressed himself closer to the wall, wanting to sink though it, escaping the horror that was surrounding him. He started shaking his head as the man got closer, crouching in front of him.

"No! _NO! _DON`T TOUCH ME!" He screamed; his eyes frantic and unable to focus. The man was close now, but so very still. Kurt shut his eyes closed, not wanting to see and his face between his knees whispering silent pleas into them. Telling them to stop, to get away, not to touch him, not to hurt him. Please not again, please I´m so tired. I can´t take it again.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and hearing a soft voice.

"Hey, take it easy, dude, it was just a nightmare. I´m not going to hurt you."

Kurt snapped his head up, looking wide eyed at the man in front of him. His brain was working frantically but he was still so afraid and shocked to understand or recognize. He looked at the hand that was placed at his shoulder and he flinched away from it, creeping under the man´s arm and backing to the other side of the room, his brain finally starting to remember the night before and slowly making him able to control his breathing, and the situation.

"W-what… How… What the _fuck_ do you think you´re doing?! You fucking piece of rotten meat, how much of an _incompetent_ fucking moron are you?!" Kurt suddenly outburst, tears building up in his eyes at sheer anger and embarrassment but he refused to let them fall.

"I´m sorry, I just woke up and wanted a little snuggling. The couch was awfully uncomfortable, if you didn´t already know." The curly headed man said causally, though his eyes slightly cautious.

Kurt however was staring at him utter disbelief. He couldn´t believe the stupidity and lack of sense of the other man. He just shook his head, unable to wrap his finger around the situation and just sunk down to the floor, feeling exhausted. He rested his forehead on the top of his knees, letting out the breath he´d been holding and tried to calm down.

"Geesh, calm down. If I´d known you were such a prude I wouldn´t have done it." The man said nervously, wanting to defend himself for erupting such fear and angst he had seen in the blue-eyed boy.

Kurt let out a deep, exhausted sigh and let his head fall to his knees as he closed his eyes.

"Please…Please, just… Just leave." He whispered weakly as he hugged his knees with his long arms and listened to the steps that first got closer then disappeared from the room. Soon he heard the front door shut closed and he relaxed.

* * *

Weeks went by and Kurt was once again locked up in his apartment, not answering his friend´s calls or messages. He didn´t want to speak to them. He was too tired and he needed to be alone. At least that was what he told himself. Saner people would probably be around people, having some kind of life around them so they wouldn´t lose themselves completely. But Kurt was already lost. Lost beyond repair. He saw no meaning in life. Why should he carry on? This wasn´t life anyways. He wasn´t living. He might as well be dead. At least death would make him stop being afraid. It would end all the pain. All the suffering.

He stood up carefully, dizzy from not having eaten anything for two days. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, standing in front of the sink, looking himself in the dirty mirror. He was nothing. Useless. He lowered his gaze and it stuck on the white containers standing so heroic on the sink. It´s so easy. He reached his hand out and grabbed the different pill containers. He opened all of them, placing them in a row and then took one of them, pouring the pills left in there into his hand, put them in his mouth and turned on the water. Slowly, he bowed his head and let the water pour into his mouth. He swallowed. His heart was beating fast. He was doing it. Finally he would end this.

He took the second container and repeated the same procedure. Pills, water, swallow. Next container. Pills, water, swallow. Then the phone rang.

* * *

Blaine was sitting on the side of the street. He had three bags, filled with his belongings. Clothes, mostly. He should have known this would happen. There is a limit for everything, and he had crossed the only one he should have stayed away from. His father´s thickly drawn line. Blaine had called him. That was strike number one. He wasn´t meant to call. Wasn´t allowed. But he had. He was drunk, and somehow, he had thought it would be a good idea to call his father and let him listen to the dirty-fag fucking session he and his nightly hook up was having.

"_Enjoy."_ He had whispered and then left the phone on the tableside, smirking as the guy above him fucked him senseless. He made sure to make as much sounds as possible. The final straw had probably been when he had screamed: "Oh yeah, fuck me daddy!" To his counterpart who was probably in the same age as his father.

Now he had paid the price. The next day, after his hangover had past, the apartment owner knocked on his door and told him to pack up his things and get out. His father had called him and said that he would stop paying the rent, and so Blaine was thrown out of his home and left on the dirty sidewalk, nowhere to turn.

He took out his phone and went through all his contacts. There were no friends. No relatives. Only meaningless guys who he had fucked once or twice. But then he stopped. _Blue-eyes. _His heart stopped a beat and then he pressed the button, and raised the phone to his ear. He waited. And waited, and was just about to hang up when he heard a rumbling noise as if something was dropped on the floor. Like a cup of pills. He heard water flowing in the background and then breathing.

"Hello?" He asked. He waited.

"Wh-who is…?" The breathing continued, slow and uneven.

"Hey, are you okay?" Blaine urged, something was obviously not right. The boy´s voice was weak and hoarse.

"He-hel- ph." The voice whispered. Even though it was weak it sounded panicked. But it was so low, that Blaine couldn´t hear what he said.

"What? " He urged.

He heard some rustling sound and then slow steps and then a thump, as if a body falling to the ground.

"_H-help!"_

Oh god, oh god. Oh god. The sound of pills dropping, water flowing and a weak voice. He was killing himself. Blaine immediately began to panic, but forced himself to be calm.

"Hey. Hey! Talk to me, don´t fall asleep, you hear me? Talk to me. What´s your name?"

Blaine stood up from the street side and called for a cab. When no one stopped he went out on the middle of the road, his hands outstretched. The cab hit the brakes and honked at him.

Blaine didn´t care but went to the side of the car and opened the door, grabbed the guy who was sitting in the backseat and closed the door.

"Take me three blocks west from here and then go right to the apartments there. Now! My friend is fucking killing himself!" He screamed, his eyes frantic and promising a deathly fate if the driver would not listen to him. The driver immideatly began driving, looking distressed and genuliy worried. He was drying very much faster then allowed, driving past red lights and almost hitting a car from behind.

Blaine went back to the phone.

"Hey- HEY? Are you there? Tell me you name."

"K-kurt." He breathed, barely audible.

"Okay, Kurt, I need you to stay awake, do you hear me? Try sitting up. I´m on my way."

Blaine heard more rustling and then a soft thump.

"Are you sitting now? Kurt? Try sticking your fingers in your throat? You need to get the pills out, okay?"

"I-I. Feel s-so… numb. I… Don´t… W-want. To feel… A-anymore."

Blaine felt his heart sinking and his lungs shrinking.

"No, yo-you don´t want this. You need to live, okay? I know it´s hard but whatever hard things you´ve been thorugh… If you die, you let them win. You are strong, okay? Stay strong for me. I´m on my way. K-keep talking to me. Tell me… Think about the good stuff. Tell me about you happiest memory."

"I- I can´t… Remember. Anymore. _The-they´ve. _Taken… Everything. Taken… my life, already. They… Destroyed me. They… were r-right. _Useless._" Every word was said in a breathing whisper, but they screamed to Blaine as if Kurt had been just next to him.

Blaine was lost for words, but then the cab hit the brakes and he was there.

"No! You´re not useless! You saved me the other day, don´t you remember? You´ll be okay, I´m right here, I´m coming up now!" He said hoarsely. He threw what was left in his wallet at the taxidriver and then bolted up the stair of the apartment and stopped at the door where he remembered Kurt lived. It was locked. Luckily enough this door seemed close to falling apart on it´s own, so all it took for it to open was a couple of desperate kicks and he was inside.

He ran inside and went straight for the bedroom, and there he was, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, his phone laying loose in his hand that was weakly resting on the floor.

"KURT!" Blaine ran to him and kneeled beside him, smacking his face and trying to get eye contact.

The blue eyes was unfocused and glazed but he was still breathing, if still very weakly.

Without further ado, Blaine lunged forward and put his fingers in Kurt´s throat, forcing him to throw up. He was gagging and coughing and then a cascade of water and pills hit the floor. Blaine did it again, and again, until Kurt was only couching up air, then he lifted him up and placed him on the side of the bed, sitting up and stood in front of him.

"Kurt?" He said, his hands stroking his face and searching for his eyes. They soon found him, and blue found Hazel. Blaine blinked, a strange feeling erupting in his chest.

"You." He said, his eyes slowly blinking and keeping them shut, and then just as slowly opening them again.

"Yes, me." Blaine said while continuing his stroking of the soft face.

Kurt mumbled something incoherent and closed his eyes again. He sat like that for a while, then slowly, a frown appeared on his forehead and before Blaine knew it, his hand was smacked away and Kurt had back to the head of the bed with a weak, but immensely furious expression.

"YOU!" He repeated, though now shouting it with a hoarse and judging voice.

"No! Wh-why. _Why_ would you do that?! How the hell did you get into my apartment?! What the fuck have you done!?" He yelled hysterically.

Blaine gave him a slightly annoyed huff and crossed his arms.

"I saved you, a little appreciation and gratefulness would be nice." He said gruffly.

"I DIDN`T WANT TO BE SAVED!" Kurt roared, tears building up in his eyes.

"I-I wanted… I was so close. T-to rid all of it." He shook his head and covered it with his hands, then he rasied it again his eyes now overflowing with tears, flowing down his cheeks. Blaine started advancing on him, standing on the side of the bed next to Kurt and attempted to place a hand on his shoulder.

"I WANTED TO DIE!" He cried, then lunged forward at Blaine and slapped him across the face, breathing heavily and furiously. Blaine didn´t budge though, but remained calm. Kurt slapped him again, harder this time, but once again, Blaine didn´t move a muscle.

"URGH!" Kurt exclaimed, and started boxing and hitting on Blaine´s chest and attempting to push him away. But the attempts were weak, but Kurt kept going. Hitting and pushing and crying. Blaine just waited, waited until Kurt was finally slowing his pace and his entire body sagged and he collapsed into Blaine´s arms. Resting his head on his shoulder and crying, sniffling and hiccupping until the last of his strength was washed out of him. Blaine slowly sat down on the bed, and let Kurt rest on his shoulder. Soon his breathing evened out and he fell asleep. Blaine stared down at the boy in amazement. He couldn´t believe what just happened. He had saved a life. He had _cared_. _Again._ There was something with this boy that took out some forgotten part of him. It was unnerving he thought as he sat there, petting the boy´s hair back, stroking it out of his tear-streaked face. He don´t know for how long he sat there, but soon light started streaming through the sheet covered window and it wasn´t until then that Kurt moved again. Blaine looked down at him and searched his reaction. Was he going to lash out again? But Kurt only blinked and smiled a sleepy smile before he mumbled something slurred. Like he wasn´t really awake.

"Thank you." He whispered and yawned. "Now we´re even."

* * *

**Aaaaalrighty then! Rewiev? :D**


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